


Gunpoint

by CommanderNova



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Blood, Crying, Gunplay, M/M, Murder, Poor Peter, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threats of Violence, Tony is a bad man, serial killer!Tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-09-05 09:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16807675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderNova/pseuds/CommanderNova
Summary: Peter witnesses a murder, and instead of calling the cops, he lets the killer walk him home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I posted this on tumblr a while ago but forgot to throw it on ao3 so now it's here

The streets were dark and completely empty, the sound of Peter’s feet hitting hard stone breaking the harsh silence that surrounded him like a thick blanket. The neighbourhood was sketchy at best, even more so late at night and Peter was walking as fast as he could to get home, not wanting to linger and step into something he didn’t want to step into.

The alleys seemed even more threatening at night, the shadows appearing to move over the walls. Peter tugged his jacket around him a little tighter, the action somehow made him feel a little safer. He didn’t like to linger around the alleys, preferred to keep his gaze straight ahead, but something in him made him turn his head and for a moment everything moved in slow-motion.

In the alley a man was pressed against a wall, someone’s large hand was covering his mouth and the glint of a knife was pressed against his throat. One last muffled cry for help escaped the man’s throat and suddenly there was blood, so much blood, pouring out of the gaping wound, over the killer’s hands, and even in the dark Peter could see the life leave the man’s eyes.

He had just witnessed a murder.

He let out a shocked gasp, the sound echoing through the night and he immediately slammed his hands over his mouth, but it was too late. His noise had caught the killer’s attention and the dead body was dropped to the floor.

Peter was shaking all over as he slowly made eye contact with the stranger in the alley, his eyes sharp and dangerous. He was rooted to the spot, unable to move an inch, and he feared that if he tried to run the stranger would chase him down and kill him, too.

The man’s hand tightened around the knife and Peter was about ready to start crying. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” He asked, his voice dark and low and Peter couldn’t _breathe_.

“I just- I was- Please don’t hurt me,” Peter whimpered, bordering on pathetic and the way the man moved towards him, like a predator stalking his prey, certainly didn’t help. Peter felt like he might pee his pants at this rate.

A hand grabbed the front of his jacket and he was slowly being guided towards the wall, his back pressed against cold, damp bricks and a sob burst free from his chest. “Now, why would I want to hurt you?” The man asked, the hand left his jacket to stroke up his neck and along his cheek, smearing blood all over his skin. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

There was no way he could give his real name to a murderer, that could only backfire terribly. “Thomas,” he choked out, tears starting to spill from his eyes. He must’ve hesitated too long before answering, because suddenly the tip of a blade was pressed underneath his chin.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a terrible liar, kid?” Peter sobbed again and closed his eyes. He was going to die, he was absolutely going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. “Hey, look at me,” the man ordered and Peter nervously obeyed. “What’s your name?”

“P-Peter,” Peter whimpered.

“Hi Peter, nice to meet you, I’m Tony,” Tony introduced himself and the unreadable expression on his face, the corners of his lips turned up slightly, didn’t do anything to calm Peter’s nerves. “What’re you doing out here so late at night? You know there are lots of dangerous people in this part of town."

"I-I," Peter started to stammer, but didn't get beyond that first word. Tony's face twisted into a perfect imitation of concerned, but his eyes remained dark and empty. Peter shivered.

"I don't think I can let you walk home by yourself, I wouldn't forgive myself if anything happened to you." A bloody hand tipped his chin up and Peter's lower lip wobbled with barely contained sobs. "Do you live in the area, sweetheart?"

Peter wanted to say no, wanted to push the man off and run like hell, but there was a large chance that he'd be followed and then what? All he eventually managed was a wide eyed nod, his entire body trembling with fear. He could feel the heat of Tony's body where it was pressed against his and he didn't think he'd ever felt so afraid in his life.

"Alright, doll, c'mon, show me the way." Tony pulled back and gently guided Peter away from the wall, placing one hand on his lower back to keep him from running. There was nothing Peter could do except for let Tony walk him home. If he stopped at some stranger's house and knocked then Tony would immediately know that it wasn't his own home, and he didn't think anyone was awake at this time to help him out before Tony managed to force a blade through his back.

Peter started walking, keeping his gaze firmly on the ground. He didn't have to look up to know where to go, he'd walked this route so many times before, just never this late at night and now he was paying the price. He should've ran when he had the chance, but he still wasn't sure how well that would've worked out for him.

Tony stayed mostly silent while they walked, the hand on Peter's back a reminder of what was happening, a threatening weight on his skin. His mind was going in a million directions, what Tony would do when they got there, if he would just let Peter go home and never contact him again, if he would come back to finish the job, lulling Peter into a false sense of security. His heart was racing in his chest almost violently and Peter was still shaking so badly that he was sure Tony would be able to feel it.

The sight of his apartment building made him feel sick, knowing that he might be putting, not just himself, but everyone else living there in danger. His hands didn't want to cooperate as he got the keys out of his pocket, but Tony just stood there, waiting for Peter to finish and only once he had unlocked the door did he take a step back.

"I'll see you later, doll, goodnight." And with that he left, leaving Peter standing alone in an empty hallway, feeling like any moment now Tony would come back to kill him anyway, stab him in the back, slit his throat, anything.

That moment didn't come and before Peter knew it he was sitting safely in his apartment. Except that he didn't feel safe at all, a murderer knew his address and knew that he saw him kill someone. He had gotten off far too easily, no one got off that easy, not in a situation like this, and he feared that the worst may be yet to come.

He spent nearly 40 minutes in the shower, trying desperately to wash the blood off his skin, the blood of some innocent man who didn't have to die. He threw up all over his bathroom floor at the memory of the stranger's throat being slit, blood pouring out of the wound and over his clothes. He didn't think he'd be able to forget the sight of a man dying, the light leaving his eyes.

He barely slept at all that night.

* * *

Peter knew he should call the cops, it had been on his mind since the moment he'd gotten home that night. He should call, he had to call, there was a murderer out there who knew Peter's address and had a very good reason to kill him.

He didn't call the cops, partly out of fear, if Tony knew he had called the cops on him then there was no way he would live to tell the story, partly out of some sick sense of curiosity, wondering what would end up happening. _Death is what would end up happening, Peter, death, your death specifically,_ his mind helpfully supplied. Still, he didn't call.

* * *

Days went by without another trace of Tony, no strange messages, no threatening voicemails, no more meetings in dark alleys, nothing. It really did appear as if his life went back to normal and he had gotten off easy. The nightmares hadn't stopped, but he figured if that's the worst that was going to happen to him then he should be almost glad.

He had just come back from his classes that day, humming quietly to himself as he closed the door behind him and walked through the tiny hallway into his living room. Immediately he was stopped dead in his track by the sight of a familiar man sitting on his sofa, one hand loosely gripping a gun and the other splayed over the back of the couch. Peter was pretty sure he forgot how to breathe.

"You know it's rude to stare, sweetheart," Tony commented casually, shifting positions slightly and spreading his legs a little more. "It's good to see you again as well. I'm sure you meant to say that, right?" There was a lazy smile on his face, something smug and self-satisfied, knowing he had Peter in a corner. His eyes had that same darkness to it, staring at Peter like a predator would stare at its prey.

"Why are you here?" He blurted out, like the stupid idiot without any self-preservation that he was, and for a moment a heavy silence filled the room. Peter was sure he had just fucked up, insulted the man in some way that would inevitably lead to his death. He hadn't expected Tony to laugh.

“You’re a lot cuter now that I can see you properly,” Tony said after he was done laughing, taking Peter in head to toe, his eyes tracked every motion and Peter wanted to run away and hide.

“A-are you going to kill me?” Peter asked, eyes focused on the gun, just waiting for Tony’s finger to slip.

“No, I don’t think so,” Tony replied, tilting his head slightly, “It really would be quite a waste if I did.” Peter wanted to feel relieved, _he wasn’t going to die_ , but he couldn’t allow himself to relax just yet.

“S-so wha-” Peter started, but Tony immediately cut him off by raising his hand and beckoning for Peter to come over.

“I could’ve killed you that night,” he purred, eyes tracking every single one of Peter’s twitchy movements as he slowly made his way over to Tony, until he was standing right in front of the man, hands trembling. “I _should’ve_ killed you. You should know I don’t make a habit of letting witnesses live.” The corner of Tony’s lips curved up slightly. “And I think… I at least deserve a ‘thank you’ for that, wouldn’t you agree?”

Oh god. Oh fuck.

“Tha-ank you, sir,” Peter managed, his voice shaking as much as his hands. He didn’t know why he added the ‘sir’ and he almost immediately regretted it. Tony seemed to like it though, appreciation shining in his eyes, and he tilted his head slightly.

“How about you get on your knees for me and show me how thankful you really are, sweetheart.” There was something about his voice, something dark and threatening, that made it sound more like an order than the casual suggestion it was framed as. Peter wasn’t an idiot and if it came down to sucking a murderer’s dick and dying the choice was obvious.

He dropped to his knees, his lower lip wobbling slightly. The look in Tony’s eyes darkened even more and he lowered the gun, tracing Peter’s jawline with the barrel, pressing cold metal against heated skin.

“Please,” Peter whimpered pathetically, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, but his noises where soon muffled by the feeling of the gun pressing against his lips, forcing Peter to open his mouth.

Peter couldn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t bear to see that blatant hunger directed entirely at him, it chilled him down to his very bones. Something about this man was off, inhuman, like a part of him was missing and Peter couldn’t remember ever being so terrified.

“That’s it, baby boy, open up,” Tony encouraged, forcing the barrel further into Peter’s mouth, lightly knocking against his teeth and Peter couldn’t help but flinch. He hoped Tony wouldn’t notice.

Peter’s lips stretched around the metal, his breath hitching with fear. He had no idea if the gun was loaded, but he figured it would be safe to assume that it was. His eyes closed almost entirely on their own, tears spilling down his cheeks as Tony started to fuck his mouth with the barrel of the gun, its bumps and ridges sliding over his tongue in a way that probably should’ve been more unpleasant than it was.

In an attempt to please the man, Peter started swirling his tongue around the metal in his mouth, acting as if he was actually sucking a cock. It was humiliating, degrading even. He felt his face heat up, a blush staining his cheeks, and he knew he wouldn’t forget this for a long time.

Tony did seem pleased by his actions, though, letting out a soft hum as Peter gagged on his gun, before finally taking it out and putting it down on the couch, now shiny and slick with Peter’s saliva. Peter tried not to audibly sigh in relief.

A thumb swiped over Peter’s swollen, spit-slicked lower lip, pushing it down slightly to make Peter open his mouth again, and Peter almost sobbed. “Such a pretty boy, I knew I kept you alive for a reason.” Tony was hard in his jeans, it wasn’t difficult to notice, and Peter swallowed nervously at the thought of what would most likely come next.

Tony made quick work of his zipper, clever fingers freeing his own cock, and suddenly there was a dick right in Peter’s face, rock hard and flushed an attractive pink. Peter was so distracted by the sight in front of him that he jerked away almost violently in surprise when the barrel of the gun pressed against his temple, a weak gasp spilling from his lips.

“I’ll blow your brains out if you try to bite,” Tony threatened, his voice still a low purr that sent shivers up Peter’s spine and when Tony forced his cock between Peter’s lips all he could do was obey.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter had honestly, genuinely expected Tony to kill him anyway after he was done with him. Put a bullet between his eyes and call it a day. But, much to Peter’s surprise, he just… left. He patted Peter on the cheek, briefly glancing down between Peter’s legs with a knowing smirk on his face, and left, with a promise to return for him.

It was all kind of ominous, really, the dark look Tony shot him as he exited Peter’s pathetic apartment, paired with that smooth, confident voice. It kind of felt like Peter had just sold his soul to the devil, and the devil was very, very eager to come collect.

The taste of Tony's cock continued to linger on the back of Peter's tongue long after the man had left, and even as Peter laid in bed that night, he could still feel the way his lips had stretched around Tony's cock, the sensation of cold metal pressed against his temple in a clear threat. It shouldn't have been arousing, not when he'd seen that very same man kill an innocent person in cold blood, but still Peter shamefully jerked off to the memory of the barrel of the gun in his mouth, his face flushed bright red as he hid beneath the covers of his bed, as if he was doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

It wasn’t all that far off from the truth.

* * *

After The Incident, as Peter liked to call it, he felt like he was being watched wherever he went, like someone was following him, and a sense of unsafety blanketed him at every moment. Tony told him he wasn't going to kill him, those words still echoed through his head every so often, but there was no way for him to know Tony wouldn’t change his mind? Peter had witnessed a murder after all, and any sane person would’ve called the police ages ago.

Still, he didn't call.

It was a decision he came to regret a couple days later when he came home to Tony sitting on his couch, loosely gripping a gun, just like last time. The whole situation kind of felt like déjà vu, like he was reliving that same day and just like last time Peter stopped in his tracks.

“Good to see you, sweetheart," Tony said, that familiar self-satisfied smirk on his face. He'd caught Peter off guard and he knew it. "Did you miss me?”

Peter wouldn't dare tell him the truth, about how he had jerked off at night to the memory of Tony's dick in his mouth, he couldn't. It was embarrassing enough as it was. The fact that he actually got off to something he hadn't consented to was wrong and twisted and messed up to begin with, but the whole serial killer aspect only made it so much worse. He'd rather just forget all about it, but it became clear that Tony was determined not to let him.

He eventually settled for "Why are you here?" as his response, and yeah, it really was a lot like last time, but this time he wasn't as terrified that Tony was going to put a bullet through his head.

"Am I not allowed to visit? Peter, you wound me. I really thought we had something here." That startled Peter, even though it shouldn't have, and Peter was about ready to drop to his knees just to get this over with, but Tony once again turned his entire world upside down with one simple phrase. "Do you want some tea?" The man was already standing up, making his way to Peter's tiny kitchen as if he owned the place.

"This is _my_ apartment," Peter protested, as if he really had any control of the situation.

"What kind of tea?" Tony asked, instead of responding to the question like a normal person would. This all felt way too surreal for Peter's tastes, and for a moment he didn't know what to say.

"Peter?" Tony said, already fiddling with the water boiler and Peter quickly choked out his response.

"Green tea." Honestly he didn't even drink tea all that often, but he knew that MJ liked green tea, so he kept some around for when she came over. He didn't know why Tony tried to force some weird sense of normalcy, like they were just two friends chatting instead of a crazy murderer with a gun and possibly his next victim.

"Sit down." Tony's voice almost echoed through the room, as clear an order as any, and Peter wasn't exactly eager to disobey he man with the gun, so he sat down at his kitchen table, nervously picking at his bitten nails.

A long silence stretched between them and Peter had no clue what to do, so many different feelings squirming around in his gut and he couldn’t really place any of them. All he knew was that Tony was unfairly attractive for a man who murdered people for a living and that Peter still hadn't forgotten the taste of Tony's cock.

"Why did you let me live...?" Peter eventually asked, when Tony came back with two cups of boiling hot tea and sat down at the kitchen table as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Because you interest me." It was a simple response, one Peter hadn't expected. He'd expected Tony to say something about his dick sucking skills, or how he thought Peter was pretty and worth keeping around for that. Interesting was at least a couple steps above basically being the man's personal sex toy.

"What... What does that even mean?"

"It means you manage to keep my attention for more than 5 seconds, doll." There was a brief pause and Peter swallowed nervously, unable to look Tony in the eye. "Doesn't hurt that you've got a pretty face." And there it was.

"So, what? You want to keep me around, because I sucked your cock?"

"I keep you around because you didn't flinch when I forced a gun into your mouth. You're different from all the other pretty boys I left for dead, you're special."

Peter sipped his tea, looking up at Tony over the rim of his cup only to see the man stare at him intensely. "Oh," he replied lamely.

"You're not afraid like the others are." Peter tried to forget about how he'd sobbed like a little child that night. "I want to keep you, because I think you can be something much greater than you are." Tony still hadn't touched his tea and for a moment the terrifying thought crossed his mind that Tony could've drugged the tea when he wasn't looking and _oh god he was going to die_.

"I don't want to kill people..." Peter's voice was quiet,

"I'm not asking you to." The 'yet' went unspoken, but Peter could hear it loud and clear.

"I... I think I'd like you to go now," Peter mumbled, staring down at the maybe-drugged mug of tea.

“If that’s what you want,” Tony replied. He got up slowly, grabbing his gun off the table and smiling at Peter. There was something off about the way Tony smiled, but Peter didn't comment on it. "Don't misbehave while I'm gone." It was an ominous thing to say right before leaving, a promise that Tony would be back to do god knows what, and it unnerved him as much as it excited him. That was something he'd like to forget as well.

* * *

Michelle and Ned had convinced him to go out with them, to get the full college experience and stop being holed up in his apartment every day. He couldn't exactly tell them that a crazy murderer had a weird obsession with him without explaining to them why he _hadn’t_ called the cops, and he doubted they'd fall for his homework excuse again. So he sucked it up and went with them to some bar he'd never been to before, telling himself he'd only stay an hour or so to please his friends and then he'd head back home immediately.

There was just one thing he hadn't accounted for, which was that Michelle seemed determined to get him laid, muttering something along the lines of him being far too tense and that he needed to let off some steam, before shoving him in the direction of a guy who introduced himself as Harry.

Harry was nice enough, charming and handsome, and he certainly was interested in Peter, taking every opportunity to touch Peter and flash him flirtatious smiles. The hand on Peter's thigh became a constant for the next 30 minutes or so and still Peter couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

Harry offered him drinks, but Peter declined every single one of them and at a certain point he was worried he was being too obvious in his disinterest, but Harry was tipsy already and didn't seem to notice. The hand on his thigh only slid up further and the moment it crossed the boundaries of what would technically be appropriate, Peter jumped up like he'd been burned, nearly knocking over Harry's glass in the process.

"I'm sorry, I just... I need some fresh air," Peter said quickly, ignoring the look of surprise mixed with disappointment on Harry's face. "I'll be back later." It was a blatant lie, of course, Peter had no intention of returning. He'd probably just text Michelle and Ned later that he wasn't feeling too good and that he just decided to go home. They'd yell at him, for sure, but he just couldn't deal with this right now.

The minute he stepped out of the bar, the cold night air hitting his skin and the noise from the bar dulling behind him as he closed the door, a strong hand wrapped around his upper arm and pulled him into an alley. He was almost violently pushed into a wall, a soft groan being forced from his chest as his back hit the damp bricks. Memories instantly came flooding back when he noticed the person who was pinning him down and it kind of felt like déjà vu.

Tony was standing in front of him, a look of murderous rage on his face, and that definitely wasn't a good look on an actual, literal murderer. It was safe to say that Peter nearly peed himself.

"What do you think you're doing?" Tony asked, one hand coming up to wrap around Peter's throat, applying just enough pressure for him to feel it, but not enough to cut off his oxygen.

"I-I don't know what you mean," Peter stammered, his voice sounding about 8 octaves higher than usual, fear steadily seeping into his bones.

"Don't play dumb with me." Tony's fingers tightened around his throat, a warning and a threat. "I saw you with that guy, I saw his hand on your thigh. Maybe I didn't make it clear enough that you belong to me." Shit. Shit shit shit shit.

Peter should've seen this coming, should've known that Tony wasn't going to appreciate it when other guys put his hands on him. But really, how could he have known? For all Peter knew Tony just wanted something quick, a way to threaten Peter into submission and get off as well, before tossing Peter to the side and finding someone knew. Well, if it hadn't been clear before, it certainly was now.

"You can't just come into my life a-and threaten me and then expect I'm going to do whatever you ask of me!" Peter responded, his voice shaking more than he would've liked. Any sane person would've probably brought up that there was nothing going on between him and Harry in an attempt to calm the serial killer down, but Peter was upset by how unfair this was, and he definitely wasn't thinking straight. “You don’t own me,” he added, but the moment he noticed the look in Tony’s eyes all his defiance melted away. He was definitely going to die.

“That’s where you’re wrong

"I- He- We-," Peter started, not exactly sure how to phrase what he was going to say. "We're nothing," he eventually settled on. "I wasn't interested in him, no matter how much he liked to think so." That seemed to please Tony. He still wasn't smiling, but at least he looked less likely to murder Peter.

"Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will i write more? maybe.   
> maybe there will be actual porn next time
> 
> who knows


End file.
